{Chapter: 244: Being Alone Again And Demons}
Alison and Valeera simultaneously rolled their eyes at his shamelessness—but neither of them argued. Even they couldn't deny the truth of his words.
To the elves—beings with lifespans stretching centuries and senses far sharper than mortals—this drink was a masterpiece. A rare blend of aesthetic elegance and intoxicating strength. Just the appearance alone would've earned it a score of nine out of ten.
A sip, and their suspicions were confirmed.
As the luminous liquor touched their lips and slid down their throats, a powerful burst of fruity sweetness hit first—then the alcohol followed, slamming into their senses like a spellfire blast.
Alison gasped softly. Even her steady hands trembled for a second, and a faint blush bloomed on her cheeks.
Valeera, ever the connoisseur, narrowed her eyes and let the flavor linger in her mouth before swallowing. The alcohol didn't just warm her belly—it sang in her veins. Mixed with what she realized was a medicinal essence, the drink sent ripples of pleasure through her entire body.
Alison exhaled, the soft scent of alcohol escaping her lips as she leaned back. "This stuff… isn't for ordinary people. Just one sip would knock a regular person out cold—or worse."
Dex only chuckled and met her gaze with amusement. "Of course. Ordinary people aren't qualified to drink my wine."
He didn't see it as criticism. If anything, he took it as a compliment.
Valeera's lips curled with approval as she tilted the glass in her hand and swirled the contents lazily. "He's right. Giving this to commoners would be a crime." Her eyes flicked up to meet his. "This is art... something meant to be savored by those who can handle it."
A soft flush warmed her pale skin, but it wasn't from the alcohol.
No—Valeera, unlike Alison, rarely drank for intoxication. She drank for the experience, the taste, the ritual. And this? This was exquisite. She hadn't felt such a high from alcohol in over a hundred years—not since achieving Legendary rank and gaining resistance to most toxins and mundane substances.
She set the glass down delicately and leaned toward Dex, her voice dropping to a whisper only he could hear.
"I didn't expect this from you," she said with a slow, sultry grin. "What other secret talents are you hiding, hmm?"
Dex flashed a grin of his own, leaning back into the plush seat like a man who knew exactly how to handle her kind of teasing.
"Impressed?" he said.
"Mmm… thoroughly." Her gaze sparkled with mischief. "So… who taught you this little art?"
For a moment, the light in Dex's eyes dimmed. His tone turned quiet, almost thoughtful.
"This technique… comes with a sad story," he said. "It's better not to mention it."
His voice, while calm, carried a subtle weight—just enough for Valeera to catch that it wasn't just a dodge. Something real had been lost along the way.
Still the truth as always.
Greg, the original creator of this technique, even dispersed his ashes.. It is indeed a very sad story that his techniques were with him now.
She paused, curious, but didn't press. Instead, she offered him a fleeting look of empathy, then resumed sipping her drink, slower now—more thoughtful.
Before long, the carriage began to slow.
Outside the window, the faint lines of a teleportation array shimmered in the distance.
Alison and Valeera, despite their flushed cheeks and dreamy expressions, suddenly straightened. With a simple flicker of internal energy, the residual alcohol was purged from their systems—like brushing dust from a coat.
They were sober in an instant.
Valeera set her now-empty glass down with deliberate elegance. Then, without warning, she leaned in and gently kissed the corner of Dex's mouth—her lips lingering for a fraction of a second too long.
Soft. Warm. Just enough to make a statement.
Alison, seated across from them, didn't say a word—but her eyes flickered, registering the move.
Valeera pulled away with a soft chuckle. Her voice was sweet but tinged with something darker beneath it.
"Next time… don't make me wait so long Dexy boy," she whispered in Dex's ear, her breath hot against his skin. "You knew where I was."
Although Valeera didn't say anything, she felt resentful in her heart that Dex knew where she was but did not look for her at all.
Then, as if nothing had happened, she swept open the carriage curtain and stepped out, tugging Alison along with her.
Only her graceful silhouette remained for Dex to admire—a sway of hips, a flick of long sun-kissed golden blonde hair, and the trailing scent of danger wrapped in perfume.
Dex blinked, still holding his glass, then slowly shook his head with a chuckle.
"Alright," he muttered to the driver. "Let's head back."
The carriage rolled on, the taste of starlight wine still lingering on his lips.
---
Time flies.
After Alison and Valeera's departure, Dex remained in Augustus for another two years, leading a quiet, almost lifeless existence—more akin to idling than truly living. He passed his days in solitude, drifting through time like a dead leaf on still water, simply waiting for the day when his part in this world would come to an end.
Living a life of idleness and waiting for the time to die.
During this long period, Dex made no waves. He didn't cause trouble, wage wars, or make headlines. He avoided the public eye and refrained from drawing unnecessary attention. If anything, his behavior could almost be described as that of a reformed devil—an obedient, inconspicuous entity who played his role as a 'good devil' without complaint.
Of course, that didn't mean he had been completely idle. From time to time, in the shadows of the city, Dex would quietly spread disease and decay—small, measured acts of corruption that went unnoticed by the general public. But even these were rare, performed more out of habit than necessity.
Now, as the sun dipped low in the sky, Dex sat silently on a creaky wooden chair by the windowsill of an old, abandoned building. His gaze fell upon a structure in the distance. Through the cracked glass of the window, he watched two figures speaking in one of the upper rooms of that faraway building.
The curtains were drawn, but that meant little to Dex. His senses, far beyond mortal limits, allowed him to perceive what others could not. One of the figures shimmered with spiritual radiance, its aura like a brilliant gemstone buried in the gray sands of mortal decay. Even amidst the chaos of this world, such vibrant energy stood out—irresistibly eye-catching.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, analyzing the glow. It was no ordinary presence.
Then, he noticed her—Sarah. The woman trailed behind the radiant figure like a servant shadowing her master. Her posture was reverent, humble. She did not speak, but her body language told Dex everything he needed to know.
The figure she followed could only be one being—the evil god she worshipped.
Dex tilted his head and whispered to himself, "Impressive power... but if I were to face him in single combat, I wouldn't win."
He didn't dare stare too long. Prolonged scrutiny, even through arcane means, could alert powerful beings. Even a subtle gaze could become a declaration of hostility if the wrong eyes noticed.
Luckily, he had long since prepared for such scenarios.
Thanks to the innate ability known as [Exoskeleton–Scarlet], Dex could mask his presence even from the sharpest supernatural senses. The ability cloaked his essence in a shell of deceptive normalcy, making him appear as nothing more than a minor curiosity—even to world-class entities.
It was a gift that not even the conscious will of a world could completely resist. And it was the key to Dex's long-term survival as he wandered across the unpredictable worlds of the multiverse.
Still, even if he dared not peer too deeply into the mystery of the evil god, the scene downstairs provided him with plenty of clues.
Several familiar figures were arriving outside the building, each one a person Dex had seen or heard of during his time in Augustus. These were no commoners. Every one of them held status—powerful nobles entrenched in the politics and wealth of the city.
Dex had quietly gathered information on them during the last two years. He knew their ambitions, their alliances, their little secrets. And now they were all walking toward one room… toward the evil god.
A cold smile tugged at the edge of Dex's lips.
"So, he's making his move."
The meaning was clear: these nobles were defecting, or at least preparing to. They were gathering like moths to a flame, ready to cast aside loyalty for survival—or for power.
"Interesting… The demons are trying to win them over too," Dex mused. "Looks like both sides want a slice of the same cake. I wonder if they're even aware of each other's presence yet. If not… things could get very amusing."
He chuckled quietly to himself, watching the scene unfold.
These nobles, while not overwhelmingly strong, still carried a kind of stubborn pride passed down through generations. Noble blood came with expectations—honor, integrity, restraint. Not so long ago, men like these would have spat in the face of devils and dark gods alike.
"But that pride is cracking," Dex whispered. "The fear must be great."
It was easy enough to guess the cause. Perhaps they had lost faith in the divine protectors of this realm. Perhaps they now saw the gods as weak, distant, or unconcerned with mortal struggles. Or perhaps they simply realized that in the face of true horror, loyalty means little.